Today the world is lost to its own thought. This morning found the last russets of maple leaves scattered beneath the trees and tonight we’re expecting our first killing freeze. It is Samhain, and the consciousness of the earth feels as fluid as the shadowy iridescence of a raven’s wing.

Samhain, the ancient Gaelic holiday of harvest and shadows, marks the time of the year when this veil is at it’s thinnest. In some ancient traditions, humans are said to have entered this world as consciously as a bride, wedding ourselves to a new kind of reality. A time for both reflection and revelation, Samhain delineates a moment as thickly fleeting as fog and as subtle as the edge of a knife. During Samhain, the boundaries between what was and what will be are distinctly blurred. The conversation between the worlds, once murmured, becomes distinct. Divisions die and the veins of fate, de-leafed and bare, reveal their patterns.

Like squash, halved, everything is both open and complete.

Traditionally considered a time of both sanctity and liminality, Samhain encourages us to question the slim thread between arrival and descent, a demarcator as fine as when leaf turns golden and when it finally falls. Historically, the eve of Samhain was celebrated as a time to reconnect with the ancestors, to feed the spirits with our remembrance and interact with the unseen. Samhain was held as an open invitaion to commune and come to peace with those we deem “others.” The unseen folk of the ancestral realm, faeries, ghosts, the most outcasted aspects of our own selves. It was an opportunity to take stock of the harvests of our lives— what is ready to be reaped, what is ready to be released— and face the source of our own inner hauntings.

During Samhain we are asked to look into mirror and see new reflections. It’s a time to put the heavy productivity of the garden to rest and turn our gaze inward, blessing the fertility of starkness and singularity. Samhain is a kind of bacchanal of liminality. Having drunk the sweet wine of both endings and beginnings, we find ourselves tipping into a living world that deals intimately with death. The hillsides blush in rust and flame, and life drops like blood from the veins of the leaves, retreating into the roots of the unseen. In Samhain we see death for what it truly is… deep sleep and opalescent dreams.

A holiday that I have cherished and beloved my entire life, I now celebrate this day in a much different way than the halcyon days of kit-kats and princess hats. I still invite in the elements of identity bending, sweetness and play, but I also take intentional time to connect into the power emanating from such an open threshold. In celebration of this tipsy time of turning I wanted to open my altars to share some of my favorite Samhain reflections + practices.

Regardless of how you choose to drink in this day, may your Samhain be blessed. Let magic spring from unexpected places and your heart branch in mystery, as brazen and bare as the hawthorn on hallowed hills.

// Acknowledging the Ancestors //

The thinnest reeds, given breath, create the deepest vibrations. As a time when the distance between the embodied and the un-embodied slims, Samhain is an important opportunity to reflect on and pay homage to your ancestors. Like forming a shape note, initiating such a conversation can create profound resonance, a harmony between all realms. Traditionally, spreads of food and wine were laid out for ones predecessors, which was a way of appeasing as much as entreating the spirits. In this day and age, with so many of us feeling quite disconnected from our cultural heritage, it is more important than ever to embrace a more expanded concept of our ancestory. Your ancestors are not simply those who were born earlier in your genetic bloodline, they are any unembodied forebears who helped define the path you now find yourself on. Ancestors can be found through our spiritual or intellectual lineages, within our wider communities and chosen families at large. Acting as guides, many of our ancestors are connected to us simply because of the way we choose to live our life, what our passion ignites. Ancestors are more than just our genetic predecessors, they are members of a much more fluid soul bloodline.

We, as wider spirits, have lived many lifetimes. Each and every one of us has experienced a diversity of lives in our planet’s historical past. When we look back to embrace these many-faceted aspects of our self, we open the door to interacting with an even deeper diversity of ancestors. In many ways, the seeds of our own selves, those that lived previous lifetimes here on earth, are our closest ancestors and most familiar teachers. You can invite in these personal ancestors to integrate the lessons and learnings you forge through now.

++ Ancestor Altar ++

My favorite way to honor my ancestors is to create an altar. I like to put the altar in a commonly seen, but generally respected, area of my house. Tops of dresser drawers or bookshelves are perfect for this. To begin I spend some time sitting quietly and reflecting on my ancestors, those who I feel close to, or who I would like to draw closer. Then I gather items that hold the ancestor energy to me: quilts, watch fobs, old silver, wooden heirlooms, dried plants, feathers and stones.

After I have gathered my soulful items and place them as I feel guided, I light a candle in the center. I may make some offerings— bits of food, sweet grass or wine. While the candles burns, I agree to be in a place of respectful prayer and adulation. This is a time to ask for any affirmation you might need and to give thanks. Your ancestors surrounded you at all times, and when you sit in such moments of invocation they come closer. You must only be open to the signs.

This time last year I began the ritual of creating my ancestor altar when I received quite a clear message from the other side. Earlier that day I had spent a totally unexpected sum of money. I was in the midst of a challenging health issue that was asking me to face some pretty overwhelming feelings of aloneness and scarcity. On this evening, I tried my best to simply set my worries aside and breathe. I began by reaching up into a worn wooden box for one of my grandmother’s old handkerchiefs, a delicate and lacy swatch of thin cotton. I was shocked when my hand settles upon a softly folded piece of paper. Nestled in the box was an envelope with my name on it, and inside that envelope was almost the exact amount of money I had spent that day. It was such a moment of unseen assurance; I sank to my knees for a few long minutes to weep.

Many months ago I had kept a small stash of bills in this envelope. But I had since spent every penny, I even had a memory of throwing the empty envelope away. But here it was, full again. Had I forgotten a handful of bills? Was it me who left it here? In the end, it didn’t matter one lick. I knew my Grandmother had created this moment. Signs and signals will always have some thread connecting them to our reality. Most of us will never see a randomly burning bush in our lifetime, but we will see many, many subtle (and not so subtle) indicators of the our loved ones presence on the other side. We must only look, and allow ourselves to recognize such signs by feeling. In a place before words I instinctively felt my Grandmother there, cradling me, supporting me, assuring me that I have never, not once, been alone.

// Clearing Ghosts //

Ghosts are a natural part of living, and not as spooky or malicious as Hollywood might have us believe. There are many worlds of movement beneath and within our own. The energy created, and left, by living beings is the farthest thing from supernatural. In fact, ghosts are as natural as can be. In traditional Chinese medicine ghosts are not simply the energetic residue of the formally living, they can also be the entities that result from a resistance to what is, a tear in our resonance with the universe. In this way of thinking ghosts can actually be aspects of ourselves— unresolved grief, unacknowledged loss, regrets, guilt, and the haunting of old hurts. Most of us feel haunted as some point in our lives. During Samhain, as the separations fade, we can do the deeply repairing work of bringing ourselves back into wholeness, and encouraging any energies that do not belong to us to merge with their own light.

There are many ways to clear ghosts, but anything you pour your intention into will be the strongest. Sage and Palo santo are two aromatic smudges that have traditionally been used in North and South America to clear and purify unwanted energies. Stones, as some of the oldest beings on our earth, can also be invaluable allies for clearing such attachments. Lately I have been in deep relationship (and gratitude to) my most recent Earth Alchemy elixir, Ghost Pipe + Carnelian. In traditional Taoist medicine Carnelian was thought to help move (and thus integrate) the ghosts we have accumulated throughout our lives. This fiery stone works an emissary, or torch, helping energies get to where they ultimately belong. Carnelian can help us mend that original split, enabling us to let go of the grief that has caused us to stagnate in dark places for so long.

Whether you use stones, herbs, smudge or just your intention, try to stay acutely connected to your senses during any clearing. As the sense that is most intimately connected to memory, our sense of smell can be one of the finest tools for reckoning and realizing an unseen presence. Recently, after helping a friend smudge a house that had (ahem) distinctly heavy energy, I found myself encountering the stale scent of an ashtray everywhere around me. It took almost a week of having that stench whiff into every room I entered (and many exclamations of “do you smell that?” to my much bewildered roommate), for me to recognize that what I was dealing with might be beyond the realm of the seen. I decided to address this perceived attachment through an ancient Daoist stone treatment with the mother of all stones— Hematite.

++ Hematite Stone Treatment ++

Hematite is what makes up the core of our earth. It is what our entire world is balanced upon. Iron rich and dense, Hematite is the ultimate mother, grounding us in profound and lasting ways. Hematite helps us be present in the here and now, affirming our earthbound selves and releasing any attached energies that would ultimately feel more comfortable in the spirit realm. This specific treatment was handed down to me through my stone teacher Sarah Thomas, who is herself a student of Jeffery Yuen, an 88th generation Daoist priest from the Jade Purity Lineage. This treatment appears in scroll 1 of the Qian Jin Yi Fang. In this ancient Chinese text Hematite was described as being able to clear six generations of ghosts. The recommended practice was to boil the raw stone for one hour and then drink 2 ounces of the decoction for 3-10 days. This practice is particularly powerful when paired with an ancestor altar. When we release, we often release all at once. So, if a healing crisis occurs you can start or stop as needed. Note of warning—decoctions are intense and not all stones are safe to heat. (In fact, some are wildly unsafe to drink at all). Try this intense treatment at your own risk. I found it to be both effective and liberating for myself, but all people (and energies) move differently. Take some time to recognize what clearing practice would be most nourishing for you.

// Invoking the richness of the dark //

Every Samhain I like to do something to honor the darkness. This is, after all, a time of tipping headlong into the longest nights of the year. Darkness doesn’t have to be scary. In fact, darkness is the deepest kind of fertility, known to both seed and human beings. Honoring the darkness is an important aspect of re-membering why we are here, and understanding the full spectrum of the light. However you decide to honor the darkness, be open to whatever feelings come up for you. What sensation does darkness hold for you—fear, excitation, vulnerability or anticipation? Darkness is a kind of beginning. How, in these long nights, would you like to be reborn?

++ The Healing Power of Candlelight++

Candlelight is a vastly important part of my Samhain celebration. Electric light— young, convenient and demanding—blows away the reality of night. Easy and ubiquitous, electric light is graceless in the face of candlelight. In candlelight, the whole world seems to sigh, relieved to be reunited with its shadows. Edges disappear and corners move in-between cascades of shape and shade. In candlelight, we invite in the mystery of the unformed. We are given the space to change and transform.

This Samhain, try invoking the healing power of natural fire-light. Begin by amassing as many candles as you can and turning off every eclectic outlet. With each candle you light allow your perception to open like a flame. Once the room is lit by candles notice what different feelings or sensations might manifest. Let yourself play with both the shadow and the light. Move from room to room with candles in hand, and watch how the house around you changes shape. This is a good time for inward reflection and outward divination. If you want to experiment with some conscious practices of shifting, candlelight provides the best setting for mirror gazing. Illuminating, surprising, sometimes disturbing, mirror gazing is an incredible way to witness how much can shift when you soften your eyes and let in the unknown.

To try this practice, sit yourself (and a candle) in front a mirror and look with an unfocused gaze into your own eyes. Let the details of your outer face fade away and simply concentrate on the windows of both irises. If you relax your eyes with enough softness, you will see your face begin to shift. This can be a bit of an unsettling experience, as I’ve seen my face change into all sorts of incarnations. Brian Weiss, the founder of Past Life Regression Therapy, posits that the different faces we see are often reflections of ourselves embodied in other lifetimes. I admit to feeling similarly ever since I began gazing as a young child.

However you choose to interact with this practice, know that you always have the power to go deeper or to withdraw. You are the magician of your own experience. Embark upon this time with soft curiosity and acknowledgement of the boundaries you would like to hold. Untold mysteries can be revealed when you settle yourself into the embrace of the unknown. Blessed Samhain everyone!

It is late October, and the peak of the Equinox has come and gone. The fields are golden with constellations of butter-colored squash and dried corn, and every day the light grows dimmer. In the wheel of the year, autumn is a time of both extravagant wealth and liberating death. As the days curl up like leaves, smaller and smaller, we are presented with more literal darkness and invited into a conflicted space of both reapening and reflection.

Autumn wears two crowns. The bright bittersweet berry and the bones of blackberry thorns. It is a time of dichotomy, of arrival and departures, endings and beginnings. Fall is an overwhelmingly evocative season, one that carries the crisp scent of nostalgia at midday, and the fog of old longings at night. For autumn’s light, thin as sorghum syrup poured in early morning sunrise, is the last of its kind. The final flicker before we enter the cave of winter— after fall we are subsumed by the dim unknown. In any spaces of darkness our eyes naturally widen and seek. And in autumn, our pupils begin to open like ponds into the deep.

Autumn’s darkness has a peculiar sheen, like an obsidian scrying stone, there is much to see in such opaque depths. Darkness, an aspect of living that is as integral as the shadow to the light, has been much demonized in our contemporary society; it consorts so closely with the unknown. Traditionally, this time of the year was recognized as a moment when the veils thin and what exists in the underworld (aka. the worlds underneath our perception of this world) can be made visible. The true underworld is not a place of demons or devils; it is the unexplored terrain of the soul. It is a place of individuation, searching, seeking, and deep creation. Like Pele and her lava, this dark place holds the regenerating force of creation in flux, the fluidity that births new land.

Autumn presents us with the opportunity to accept this inward quest, and acknowledge the vital importance of death. In autumn we can consciously invite in the dissolution of old habits or ideas, relationships, ways of being, or concepts of the world. Death, in truth, is a kind of harvest; we cannot collect the seed until the sunflower has become hunched and blackened like a crone. Autumn reminds us that death is a natural cycle of life, and in death there is nothing to fear. We engage in petite deaths all the time— the end of the day, the end of a phase, the end of our moon. Our soul is intimately interested in death. In fact, it is so curious that each and every one of us is born into a body that will one day die. Without death or darkness, how can we be reborn?

Depression is a heavy word in our culture. It carries as much weight as the ferry on the river Styx. As a society, we fear depression, just as we fear death and descent. In the olden days the word melancholy was often used. In contrast to depression, melancholy is not a deaf sinking or a mute plunge into nothingness; it is a search, as important and heroic as an anchor seeking deeper shores. Melancholy is born from a fervent yearning for meaning, a desire to know the purpose behind the pulp of ife. This search is fecund. It is the force that drives us into the unexplored terrain of the soul. In his book Care of the Soul, Thomas Moore echoes the importance of melancholy, recognizing depression’s emptiness as a type of alchemy that can transform the very fabric our lives. Many seeds must first be buried in darkness before they can bloom into light. Melancholy, and all the deep creativity it engenders, is a kind of planting. Traditionally associated with the God Saturn (who is also the God of harvest, age, wisdom, density and wealth), melancholy is a kind of passport into other worlds. In the old days, those who were considered constitutionally melancholy were sometimes called “Saturn’s children” and treated with respect. As progeny of such a distant and deep planet, we are usually asked to travel far.

We all move through Saturnian times in our life. Anyone who has experienced the enormity of change that can accompany your own personal Saturn return already understands the heavyweight importance of such underworld journeys. [Saturn return is a term in astrology, marking when Saturn returns to the same point in the sky that it occupied the moment you were born. This cycle comes about in 27-30 year intervals and is generally accepted to herald a time of massive transformation, new directions and change]. Whether you are literally in your Saturn return, or simply descending into a Saturnian moment, we must remember that such sinking is not the same as driftlessness. Every descent has its necessity, every death its reasons. The autumn leaves on the tree do not wonder why they flame and fall, they simply let go.

Saturn and its melancholy asks us to go deep, casting off our surface personalities to seek the wider identities of our soul. At its most primal element, a Saturian autumn is a time of approaching mystery. Not only the mystery of death and beginnings, fairy tales or witches brews, but the unfathomable mystery of oneself. As Oscar Wilde wrote near the end of his life, “The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? “

Autumn is the time for approaching the brave trajectory of your own soul. It is the season in which we are asked to simply witness our rotation, recognizing the fecundity within the dark sides of our moon, and accepting the shadowy gifts autumn’s Saturnian return.

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The Birth of Earth Alchemy

Several months ago I was sitting amongst a patch of Ghost Pipe on the forest floor when, like an ember thrown from a far off fire, Carnelian sailed into my awareness. In that moment, a flame burst into being. I recognized that these two medicines were asking to create magic together, and so I bowed my head and made it a reality. Only a month prior Kunzite + Mimosa has engaged me in a similarly surprising waltz. With this imploring I knew that a new era of One Willow had been born, and so I began to gather tinder to feed this deeply inspiring spark. By definition, alchemy is a practice that can literally transform matter. Soon after I began working with these earth medicines, I knew these elixirs held the ability to turn even the darkest elements into gold. Now, in the richness of this Saturnian time, I am so proud to announce the beginning of One Willow’s new Earth Alchemy line, an ever-evolving collection of flower and stone pairings that have asked to be breathed into life.

Ghost Pipe + Carnelian is the second essence in this alchemical collection. In recognition of this season I wanted to introduce you to the two beings behind this glowingly transformational essence.

Carnelian

In Chinese medicine there exists a concept of ghosts that goes far beyond our understanding of hauntings. In traditional Asian medicine ghosts are not simply the energetic residue of the formally living, they are entities that result from a resistance to what is, a tear in our resonance with the universe. When we resist or reject our current circumstances, we often cause a split. In this way of thinking ghosts can actually be aspects of ourselves— unresolved grief, unacknowledged loss, regrets, guilt, and the haunting of old hurts. In traditional Taoist medicine Carnelian was thought to help move (and thus integrate) the ghosts we have accumulated throughout our lives. This fiery stone works an emissary, or torch, helping energies get to where they ultimately belong. Carnelian can help us mend that original split, enabling us to let go of the grief that has caused us to stagnate in dark places for so long. Historically, carnelian is linked to courage, bravery, and the ability to be eloquently bold. More contemporary understandings of Carnelian revere this embered stone for its ability to help us step into spaces of personal power and leadership. Carnelian encourages us to take action in our lives, moving us like a flame through the darkness in order to manifest our brightest dreams. Carnelian emboldens us to find our deepest courage and take the leap into the unknown.

Ghost Pipe

Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora) is an eerily unique being, one that has captivated the hearts of many people over the years. It is one of the few plants that lacks chlorophyll and survives in a semi-parasitic (some would say symbiotic) relationship by tapping into the mycorrhizal networks of the forest. It has roots in both depth and dependency, embodiment and death. Ghost Pipe has often been associated with states of the underworld, and as a guardian of the threshold it seems to rise like a ghost from the dark forest floor. As an essence, Ghost Pipe can help us enter liminal spaces with safety. In Sean Donahue’s beautiful article on this evocative plant he writes, “Ghost Pipe to me is the distillation of the consciousness of the forest — of the deep peace that comes from complete integration in the cycles of birth and death to the point where the distinction ceases to have meaning.”

Ghost Pipe reminds us that, in truth, death and rebirth are one in the same. Emerging from the soil in a pale stand of downward facing hoods, this plant seems to embody the penetrating vision of the crone— the movement of bringing ones gaze into the inner worlds. After this plant is fertilized, the flower shades a miraculous pink and turns its face upwards to the sky. Ghost Pipe is an exotic example of the life-giving essence than can arise from our journey into the underworld. Once we allow ourselves the time of descent our souls require, we can fertilize a whole new generation, the blush of a fully lived existence returning to our cheeks to help us show our faces even more gallantly to the world.

Ghost Pipe has fallen out of contemporarily popular materia medicas, but was in wider use in the early Americas, where is was listed in King’s American Dispensatory. A nervine, antispasmodic and diaphoretic, Ghost Pipe turns purple when tinctured, a velvety reminder of the insightful alchemy that can happen when seek our medicine in the depths.

Ghost Pipe has historically been used in drop doses as a pain remedy. This curious companion was cited to help “put the pain beside you” where it can be examined, and ultimately transcended. Depression can be overwhelming, but when we focus on the pain we prevent ourselves from moving deeper into the places that our discomfort is asking us to address. Ghost Pipe can help us to put aside the intensity of the hurt and see our wounds as an opening into a truly transformational journey of the soul.

A guide for the Saturnian journeys of our lives

Life, like clouds, moves in cycles. Moments of brightness and clarity exist just as wholly as shape-shifting horizons of storm. To acknowledge the light, is to recognize the darkness, and to interact with the shadow is to learn about the very nature of light. A remedy of ember and empowerment, Ghost Pipe + Carnelian is a guide for such journeys into the underworld. In the old days, the natural seasons of melancholy were considered the domain of Saturn— the Roman God of wealth and wisdom, dissolution and depth, harvest, wholeness and liberation. Ghost Pipe + Carnelian is a torch for all those who are ready to move through the Saturnian journeys of their life. An invaluable ally in times of depression, darkness, or stagnation, this powerful pairing reminds us that we are, in truth, our own guides. We must only trust the imperceptible path. When we embark with willingness into the worlds that lay beyond this one, we consciously enter into the terrain of the soul. Ghost Pipe + Carnelian emboldens us to embrace entirely new ways of soulful seeing and being, a journey of consciousness that necessitates the death of the old. This dynamic essence dispels any energies that may be hindering our quest— ghosts, cords or parasitic attachments, and reminds us that rebirth always arises from places obscured. A bravely alchemical pairing, Ghost Pipe + Carnelian gives us the power and energy to burn like lava through the darkness, manifesting entirely new land.